


Collision Course (Or How Tony Almost Broke His Nose)

by StonyAvengerGirl16 (CharmedBritannia)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asking Out, Barista!Steve, Bookstore employee!Tony, But I regret nothing, Coffe shop AU, Fluff, I'm dead serious there is so much fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, More Fluff, The others are tired of their BS, Tooth Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmedBritannia/pseuds/StonyAvengerGirl16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a block in NYC there are two shops. A neat little coffee shop sits on the left, while a chaotic but popular bookstore sits on the right. The owners are both head over heels for each other, but are adamant they will not talk to the other. They unknowingly frequent each other's shops during their respective lunches, and one day a simple decision by both leads to a fated collision. Just not in the way they both imagined. Cue complete and utter cuteness, and their friends don't know which is worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collision Course (Or How Tony Almost Broke His Nose)

One day a coffee shop owner and a bookstore owner ran into each other and then got together. This is their story.

\---

On the left side of an NYC block, there stood a modest coffee shop adorably named Rogers' Roasts. It was owned by Steven Grant Rogers, who also normally worked the counter (he liked to socialize and get to know his regular customers, as well as their coffee preferences)  and was popular with the college students a few blocks away at SHIELD University, a private college for gifted individuals. There was no tuition, as their work was submitted to major sponsors that  paid for the students as long as they continued to create their work. They came in to study while drinking delicious mixtures and chomping on delicacies you couldn't find at any major coffee shop or even grocery store, and competed for seating in the small shop. The inside was painted a calm blue shade, decorated with hanging plants and artwork that Steve had made during his time as an art major (he had never been so shocked as when his senior art teacher had handed him a navy blue envelope with a silver bird symbol on the seal, with a letter inside saying that his art had earned him a slot). The smooth gray tile floor was covered with dark wooden tables and chairs with comfy cushions. The front counter was a lighter shade, and had a glass case next to it filled to the brim with pastries and sandwiches. The employees of the coffee shop were having a lovely conversation that had gone on for weeks.

 

"Ask him out, Rogers."

 

Steve proceeded to choke on air, and spun around to face the speaker. Said speaker was one Natasha Romanov, a red-haired beauty that was just as dangerous as she was gorgeous. He'd seen her stab an unwanted creeper in the thigh with a mechanical pencil once he dared sit too far into her personal space while they were in college. Her underlying aura of violence gave her the hushed nickname of 'Black Widow'. It was a good thing they were friends, and that she found most of his actions 'adorably irritating' instead of just irritating. She made the drinks that they served at the shop (which always came out perfect), and wrote the special menu as it changed almost monthly as she came up with new combinations (Steve told all his customers that they still made their old drinks, they just didn't have enough space to write them all).

 

"Seriously, dude. You've been staring at him for the last ten minutes. You need to man the fuck up. You panic when he shows up, but pout if he doesn't. You're almost thirty, not thirteen. I'm tired of manning the counter when he shows up. That is not my goddamn job, and it's not Natasha's or Thor's either."

 

That was Clint Barton, his other good friend. He was a compact man with sandy blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and toned arms. The arms came from his frequent archery competitions in college. His ability to hit any size target from any distance earned him the title of 'Hawkeye'. He now taught lessons on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at the same college. He was also horribly perceptive.  He made the multiple goodies that they served out front (all his own recipes), from muffins to sandwiches to cupcakes. His gift of making extremely delicious pastries really brought in customers, and he'd seen some girls pursue him just for that skill (to the others' undying amusement).

 

"Aye, Steven! It is clear that you are smitten with him. He appears daily! This is your chance to court him, and win his affections!"

 

And that was Thor Odinson, the final piece of their group. He was a hulking mass of pure muscle, with long blonde hair, cloudy blue eyes, and a voice that could be heard across the city. He had moved here from somewhere in the Nordic area, and spoke English fairly well, except he still had some issues with understanding metaphors and similes. It didn't matter much though, because people still understood him fine. He was the server, and his bright-eyed enthusiasm and sunny disposition made him perfect for the job.

 

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but a raised eyebrow from Tasha snapped his mouth shut. Clint spoke up again.

 

"No excuses, Rogers. Anything that comes out of your mouth that isn't a 'you're right, I'll do it' won't do jack shit. You were one of thee most, if not _the_ most sought after people in college. You have looks, athleticism, and character. Or did you forget, Captain America?"

 

Steve made a face at the mention of the nickname. It had sprouted from the fact that he was the captain of both his varsity high school and college football teams, and the fact that he had the 'All-American' look about him. Thus, Captain America. He was pretty sure he was going to have it etched on his grave. 'Here lies Captain America, blushing virgin'. He sighed and looked over the counter where he was checking inventory. He was still there, sipping his drink and eating his muffin while typing furiously on his tablet. He didn't know whether to sigh dreamily or swear in a fashion that his Ma would wash his mouth out with soap for.

 

"I have no idea why you guys are harassing me about this."

 

"You are crouched behind a goddamn counter, Steve."

 

"I'm taking inventory-"

 

"Bullshit."

 

He made a face at Tasha and continued to sort through the containers of coffee beans. She was right. He knew exactly how many were left as he had counted them almost every day. He was such a coward. Everyday at around twelve, the door bell would chime and he immediately ducked behind the counter to 'take inventory', or some other hidden task. It was just, he made such a fool of himself when he first came in that the other man _must_ have noticed. He couldn't bring himself to face him.

 

One afternoon a few weeks ago, he was talking to Clint when he heard the door chime, Turning around, he was about to give his standard greeting when it lodged itself in his throat.

 

The man was amazing.

 

He was just as compact at Clint, though maybe a few inches shorter. His thick dark-brown hair was haphazardly arranged on his head, curling in on itself, and was wet from the rain, like the rest of him. His hazelnut-chocolate eyes blinked blearily up at him, ringed with dark circles (that instinctively worried him; was he sleeping?). His whole demeanor reminded him of a wet kitten, yawning and looking like it just wanted to curl up and sleep some more. He hadn't realized he was staring until the man had finished scanning the menu and looked him straight in the face. He was sure he had blushed, and knew for a fact that the greeting came out strangled and kind of coarse. He had attempted to morph his expression into something not creepy, and finished taking the order. As the man had walked away with a venti flat-black Americano with four shots of espresso and an enormous blueberry muffin, he felt his blush return full-force as he took in his rather _impressive_ ass and sweet Mary and Joseph he was a pervert. His could hear his Ma's scolding.

 

_"Steven Grant Rogers! I taught you better than that! You do not objectify someone that way unless you plan to do something about your attraction to them!"_

 

He had retreated into the back where it was safe, glanced down, and groaned.

 

He had made sure to wash his hands extremely thoroughly after that particular trip to the bathroom.

 

Just thinking back on that incident filled him with shame. The fact that he had used an unknowing customer to relieve himself _while he was still there_  was awful. The fact that he had used him even more despite that fact, as well having quite a few dreams starring him was atrocious. That was the reason he hid while he was there, unknown to his friends. He sighed, checked that he was gone, undid his apron, grabbed his bag (as well as a box of pastries before Clint could chew him out), and left for his lunch break. There was a bookstore down the block he liked, even though it was a mess. It was  good place to read or sketch, whichever he felt like doing that day (and if his sketches were of one person in particular than so what).

\---

On the right side of the block there was a book store cleverly named 'Stark's Story House', owned by Anthony 'Tony' Edward Stark. It was the complete opposite of the coffee shop, though it was just as popular. It was chaotic, with shelves packed with books, and stacks towering all the way alongside the aisles. It had no particular sorting method, and that was half the fun. You had to really look for something, and on the way, you usually found about ten things that you would have ignored otherwise. The walls were a dark red, decorated with posters of famous rock bands. The shelves were a shiny metal, the same as the checkout counter. The floor was covered with a dark gold carpet, worn from so many visitors. There were black beanbags hidden among the shelves, and a few tables by the front window. One of said tables was currently occupied by the perfect specimen of a human male. Tony was currently hiding behind a shelf, moving the books in the middle of the aisle to the side. When did he become such a fucking coward?

 

"When you saw him come in the first time, almost had a stroke, and ducked behind a pile of books."

 

He scowled at Bruce, who returned it with a look of fond amusement. Bruce Banner was a close friend of Tony's, as they had met during their freshman year at SHIELD University. They had had multiple science courses together, with Bruce working towards his Biological Chemistry degree and Tony his Engineering degree. They had bonded over giving Dean of Students Nick Fury and his assistant Phil Coulson migraines as they explained that yes, they could use the labs for their experiments, but no, that did not give them the right to blow up said labs by using volatile chemicals and hazardous machinery. After working engineering weapons, he had decided to leave, take his rather impressive savings, and open his own bookstore of all things. Bruce joined him after an accident at one of the labs he had worked for left him with an unhealthy dose of radiation, years of treatment, and a bitter dislike of the company.

 

"Fuck you, Banner. Who asked you?"

 

"You did, when you spoke the question out loud."

 

" I should fire you. Fuck you twice."

 

"I don't think it's me you want."

 

He almost spat out the coffee he was sipping. But it was too delicious to do so. That coffee shop he had decided to visit was the best decision he had ever made. Along with those muffins and sandwiches, it was enough to keep him going everyday (much to his friend's delight, as they had made it clear that only coffee was not an acceptable energy source, no matter how awake it kept him so he could work down in his lab below his house). But back to  Mr. Perfect.  After weeks of _observing_ him (not stalking, Banner), from behind nearby bookshelves, he had memorized almost every detail. He was at _least_ 6'3", and ripped like _holy hot damn._  His broad shoulders, thick limbs, and strong jaw was like every wet dream he had ever had and ever will have. He had the proportions of a Dorito (so what if he had checked)with an adorable face. His hair was a bright blonde, and his eyes were an unusual shade of blue, both sky-blue and ocean blue mixed together. Straight nose, full pink lips; everything about him was perfect. He didn't have the rugged look of Clint the baker, or the sort-of-a-hippie look of Thor the server. He frankly looked like apple pie and sports and picnics on checkered blankets and Tony wanted to jump him oh-so badly. He felt like he new him from _somewhere_ , though. When Mr. Perfect had first decided to visit, instead of charming the ever loving hell out of him, he had done an impressive duck and cover behind a nearby stack of books. The deep voice he had spoke to Bruce in (who was forced to take over the counter after his hasty retreat), made him glad he did. He might have jumped over the counter and had his wicked way with him if he hadn't.

 

So now Tony watched from behind the shelves closest to the table he frequented, organizing the books. Unfortunately, both Bruce and his friend/ex-girlfriend/bookkeeper Virginia 'Pepper' Potts knew that was BS because he had made very clear on multiple occasions that he truly did not give rat's ass about order. Even Rhodey knew, because Pepper was mean and tattled on him to his other friend who was in the Air Force and therefor should not know about this.

They were all crappy friends, but the best he'd ever had.

\---

Now here comes the part that solves both their problems.

 

It was a simple decision on both their parts. Steve had decided to leave early, seeing as how the brown-eyed cutie hadn't shown up that day ("no Clint, I am not pouting. Leave me alone."). Tony had decided to leave late, cursing at the fact that Pepper was going to have his ass if he didn't type up their inventory, and he quite liked his ass. It was a spectacular ass, if he didn't say so himself. So that day, they both left at around the same time. Steve was searching through his bag to make sure that name of the recipe book Clint wanted to study was there, and Tony was typing away on his tablet,  e-mailing his report to Pepper. Not surprisingly...

 

*THUMP*

 

"OW!"

 

"Whoa!"

 

"Fuck, that smarts! What the hell..."

 

"I'm so sorry..."

 

They both trailed off, internally screaming as they stood face to face with their respective crushes. Well, Steve stood. Tony, however, had bounced off Steve's solid chest like a rubber ball, stumbling backwards. So now, Steve held him in some sort of dip, one arm around his waist, his tablet in his other hand. Steve felt the familiar burn spread across his cheeks and down his neck, and Tony almost hyperventilated. They both realized they were on a sidewalk in public, because Steve pulled Tony back up, reluctantly removing his arm.

 

"Um...I'm really sorry. I didn't look where I was going... and, well, I didn't want you to fall...so...here's your tablet back."

 

"T-Thanks. I mean...I wasn't paying attention either, so...it's not all your fault."

 

They both stood there for a minute, looking hesitant. Steve was the first to speak again.

 

"I really am sorry about your nose. It looks like it might bruise."

 

"It's fine, I'll be okay."

 

"This might sound weird but...can I maybe...take you out sometime?"

 

Tony stared blankly. Mr. Perfect was asking him out? What is happening? Did he knock himself out and now he's hallucinating?

 

"I mean, you don't have to, but I would really like it if you did. You come to the coffee shop almost everyday-"

 

"Wait. Rogers' Roasts? How do you know that? Do you work there?"

 

"Yeah. I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. I technically own it, but I still work the counter."

 

"I've never seen you before."

 

"This is really embarrassing, but I kind of hide when you come in. It's a knee-jerk reaction almost. I'm not so great at this, if you can tell." 

 

Throughout their conversation, Steve had gotten redder and redder until he looked like he might explode. He shifted nervously under Tony's speculation.

 

It was the cutest thing Tony had ever seen.

 

"Well hello, Steve. I'm Tony. Tony Stark. I own the bookstore down the block. Yes, I know you've never seen me. Yes, I know you frequent there. Yes, I was a coward and never introduced myself."

 

Steve had relaxed a bit at the confession, and cracked a million-dollar smile. 

 

"So...Friday at eight?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Swell. I'll pick you up. Can I have your address?"

 

Swell. How cute was that?

 

After exchanging numbers, Tony pulled him down and kissed his cheek. After patting it, he flashed a smile and continued on his way. Steve just stood there on the sidewalk holding his cheek for a minute before putting on a dopey smile and going the other way.

\---

Five months later:

 

"They are disgustingly adorable."

 

Clint was watching the two lovestruck men sitting at a table by the window eating lunch. Tony was talking a mile a minute, waving one hand around, while the Steve had the other trapped in his own; sappy smile on his face. Their feet were tangled together, and Steve leaned in for a kiss, which Tony enthusiastically reciprocated. 

 

"No sex on the tables, you two!"

 

"Fuck off, Barton!"

 

Steve pacified Tony with a kiss, and Tasha silenced Clint with a smack on the head. 

 

"But it's true! Jesus. I feel like I'm getting a cavity."

 

The others rolled their eyes, but it was true. When it was Tony's day to eat at Steve's, he would saunter up and wrap his arms around his neck. After Steve had kissed him firmly but shortly, hands on his hips, they sat together and proceeded to make everyone in the back gag. When it was Steve's turn to eat at Tony's, he would bring his favorite order, and swoop in for a kiss before leading them to the window seat. Bruce had just smiled, while Pepper demanded photos.

\---

Two years later:

 

"Give it back, Clint!"

 

"No! This is ridiculous! I bet you even have it on you right now! Tasha, look at this!"

 

"Wow, Rogers. You are such a sap."

 

"Give it _back_ , Clint! Come on!"

 

"It is most realistic, Steven."

 

"Clint, if you don't give it back right now I swear-"

 

"Give what back?"

 

All of them froze. Tony stood there, head cocked, squinting his eyes at them. Steve broke out in a sweat.

 

"Nothing, sweetheart. Are you ready to go home?"

 

"Not until I see what's so important."

 

"Tony-"

 

"Steve."

 

"Tony, please-"

 

"Nope, hand it over."

 

Steve glared at his friends from over his shoulder. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. There was going to be dinner, moonlight, stars...

 

"Steve?"

 

He whipped his head back around. Tony looked insecure, as he tended to look more often than Steve liked. He felt like punching himself in the face. 

 

"You don't have to show me. I get it if it's a secret."

 

Steve sighed.

 

"Not a secret. A suprise. It wasn't supposed to happen right now though."

 

"Steve?"

 

He ripped his sketchbook out of Clint's hands, who looked appropriately guilty. Even Tasha looked a little sheepish. Thor held his mouth in a straight line. He walked over and gave it to Tony.

 

"Your sketchbook? But Steve, you've been holding it hostage for months-"

 

"Open it Tony."

 

He complied, opening to the first page. He stared, and looked up at Steve.

 

"Keep going."

 

As he continued, a steady blush worked across both of their faces. When Tony's eyebrows shot up, he stammered out an explanation.

 

"It was something I had fantasized about since I first saw you. There are...a few in there."

 

Tony gave a little smirk but continued flipping. He knew he what he was looking at. Tony in all different poses, places, and wearing different facial expressions. As he got closer to the last page though, his sweating got worse, and he felt like bolting. It was when he reached it that Tony's expression turned to shock. He knew what he was reading.

 

His proposal speech.

 

_'Ever since I first saw you, I knew you were special. Unfortunately, sometimes you don't believe that. you've gone through plenty of struggles, and been hurt plenty of times. I just want you to know that everything they've ever said isn't true. You ARE special. Your heart and soul may be fractured, but I want to be the one to fix them. You're special, Tony. I love you, and I hope you want to be mine as much as I want to be yours. Tony, will you marry me?'_

 

By the time he finished, Tony knew he was tearing up. But when he saw Steve take a small box out of his pocket, and get down on one knee, he was crying outright. Inside the box, there was a simple gold band, with a strand of silver in the middle. His throat had closed up at this point, so all he could do was nod. Steve broke out in a completely estatic grin, and slid the ring onto his finger. He kissed it once it was there, and Tony threw himself down into his arms, kissing him within an inch of his life. There were claps in the background, and whistling from what he knew was Clint. But all he could think about was the blonde man hugging him tight that had just become his fiancé. 

 

"You understand this means engagement sex, right?"

 

"Of course, Tony. But I hope Bruce can cover for you, because you won't be leaving bed tomorrow. At all. I'll make sure of that."

 

"You damn well better keep me busy then, Rogers."

 

"I plan to."

 

Tony just laughed, hugging Steve as hard as he could, with Steve returning the favor.

 

Life was amazing.

 

And it just took a collision in the middle of the street to get it moving along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
